A Tale Untold
by Danae Bloodsail
Summary: Well, I'm rewriting this story, but here's a summary. The dead of Elrond's house still remain, a long kept secret shall be broken after 3 millenia, and a new power comes to aid the side of good. WARNING: MASSIVE MARY-SUE.
1. Prologue

**--Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story other than Kaylen Shadowmaker. She is mine and mine alone. Please do not use her unless I have given you permission to do so. ---**  
  
**Prologue**  
  
Kaylen sighed as she looked at the dark landscape around her. Much had placed itself on her mind.  
  
It had been close to 3000 years since she had nothing to hide from anyone. Thirty centuries since she was free of care, since she was innocent. And from then until this moment had she regretted the immortality of the Eldar. Perhaps things would have been different, happier if she had stayed. This thought she rolled about, considering it. She came upon the conclusion that yes, it would have been different, but no, it would not have prevented this from happening, but rather prolong it so that she would be unprepared. Still, her mind strayed, as it often did, to the past, to the day she became what she is.  
  
It had been spring then, and while the elanor flowers that she loved so had not yet blossomed, everything was green and lush. She had been playing with her younger brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, in the forests that grew so thick outside of the realm of her father. She and Elladan hid as Elrohir searched for them, and then it would be Elladan's turn, then hers. They were so young then, standing no higher than a hobbit, running about the glades, giggling merrily as they went. When her turn came for the second time, she counted, her hands held firmly over her eyes (she never cheated), and then went searching for her brothers. After a while of searching, she came to thinking that they left her alone, and went back home. Then it occurred to her- she didn't know where she was. More importantly, she didn't know where home was, and like any other young child, ran helplessly through the woods, crying and yelling in the hope that her parents would hear and come rescue her.  
  
No one came. And as this dawned on her the tears in her eyes became bigger, and fell faster. She sat down on a rock in a circle of trees and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest, weeping and wondering if she'd ever find home again.  
  
After the stars were the only things left to comfort her, a voice echoed through the forest around her, its whispery tone sounding truly divine.  
  
"_Kaylen...Eldarhin...cry not, child._"  
  
She lifted her head to the sound of her name.  
  
"Who calls Kaylen?"  
  
"_I do, Eldarhin. I, Varda, servant to the one, Illuvitar, call you._"  
  
_((Eldarhin-(Elvish) means "Elven Child"))_  
  
Kaylen's dark emerald eyes widened, and she fell to her knees, besmirching the silver robes she wore. She, however, did not care, for this was to her quite possibly the most important moment of her life. She was speaking to Elbereth, the Lady of the Starlit Sky, whom her people wrote songs of and worshipped. Her head bowed, Kaylen's voice became meek, and her question stuttering and hesitant.  
  
"Wh...what do you wish of m...me, my lady?"  
  
"_It is not fully what I wish,_" Elbereth said, appearing to Kaylen as a female figure of mist. She lifted her hands to the sky and looked at her stars. "_but what Illuvitar the Creator wishes. He has drawn and formed a path for you to walk upon. Since our speaking here must be brief, I but ask a single question to you. Will you walk this path that he has placed before you?_"  
  
Kaylen was struck dumb. What purpose could she have that would be so important that Elbereth herself would come to speak to her? Nonetheless, she thought, the answer was clear as the waters of the Bruinen. Her voice somewhat stronger than before, her face staring firmly at the ground, she spoke.  
  
"How could I refuse a commandment of the Creator?"  
  
"_Good. I shall warn you though, Eldarhin. The way is neither pleasant nor simple to pass along, and so your heart must be prepared for what is to come._"  
  
After a short while of silence, Kaylen whispered her reply.  
  
"All of me is prepared to follow you, my lady."  
  
"_I do not doubt it, Eldarhin. You have passed the first gate. The second shall be far more difficult. To follow me, and Illuvitar, you must leave this place. Leave it now. For all things to pass as they must, Kaylen of Rivendell must be dead until it is time._"  
  
"Time for what, my lady?"  
  
"_Time for you to serve, to protect. Time for you to save all that which you hold dear._"  
  
A misty hand placed itself on little Kaylen's shoulder, then moved to her cheek. Elbereth's voice continued.  
  
"_You must be strong, Eldarhin, for this part may be the most painful. I gift you with your first power, the power to hide and allude. Use it to make Kaylen of Rivendell dead._"  
  
Tears filled Kaylen's eyes, for she knew what this meant, though she was small. She nodded quickly, and reached her thoughts to the part of her mind where this new power dwelled. The image was clear in her mind, and as she opened her eyes, it began to take physical form.  
  
Kaylen of Rivendell lay dead, appearing to be a ghastly pincushion for orc arrow and spear. It was a sight that left its creator screaming and backing away, her emerald eyes now lined with silver tears of terror. Then all at once Kaylen's screaming stopped, and she stood in wonder at the illusion that she had created. It looked real, smelled real (the rotting scent of death was now overpowering), and felt real, which she discovered when prodding the shoulder of this dead image of her.  
  
However, she did not question the look of approval on Elbereth's shining, almost non-existence face. Her voice shook as she meekly spoke.  
  
"What next?"  
  
"_Now you must run, my child. Run to Fangorn. From there I shall take you to the home of the Valar._" The Vala's pearly arm rose and her index finger extended itself, making an arrow pointing south, a hair to the East. "_That way._"  
  
Even before the Divine had faded from sight, the frightened elvish child ran, with speed that seemed impossible, even for an elf. However, she was scared, sad, alone, and the shock of recent events had driven her. Two and a half weeks later she passed by Isengard, home of Saruman the White, and into Fangorn forest.  
  
The past 28 centuries or so had been a blur, mostly. She remembered training, intense training, with sword and spear and staff, in language and culture. She remembered leaving, traveling with the Dunedain, meeting the son of Arathorn when he stood only slightly lower than she did when she left her home for the first time. She remembered returning to Rivendell, with the boy whose name was Aragorn, and his mother, Gilraen. She remembered Arwen, as fair as Luthien Tinuviel herself, and crying privately when she found that her mother had left Middle-Earth. She remembered her brothers standing tall, as men, when it seemed only days before that they were children playing in the forest. She recalled Gilraen's death, and the mourning that Aragorn went through afterwards. She remembered Aragorn growing into a man, and the love that sprouted between him and Arwen. And most of all, she remembered the name she could never use, Kaylen of Rivendell. Instead she had the name Gkaian Feaelen, and instead of being Princess of Rivendell she was a vizier from Lothlorien who traveled to Rivendell to advise Arwen as she became older.  
  
It was now well into the Third Age, and though she had reason to be troubled about those in Rivendell, the problems forming on her mind originated far from it.  
  
**---- Well, I personally like how this prologue worked out. It expressed just about the right feeling. Don't hesitate, however, to review. --**


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**  
  
By Shire reckoning, the day was September 27th, year 3018 of the Third Age, when Kaylen received word that the One Ring of Power, which was used by the Dark Lord Sauron to nearly take over Middle Earth in the days of old, had been once again found, and was in the hands of a hobbit by the name of Frodo Baggins. He was the nephew of Bilbo Baggins, the small fellow who'd found the Ring deep in the Misty Mountains. And now Frodo was setting out for Rivendell, carrying this most evil trinket.  
  
A day later she decided to ride out for Bree, where their first night out of the Shire would most likely be spent. It was the most sensible place for people on their way east, and was close enough to the Shire that they would not become overly tired. However, Kaylen did not mount her horse until shortly after sunrise on the following morning. Had she mounted any other steed then her own, the ride would have taken two days, perhaps three. But she rode Gilgwath, in whose veins pumped nearly the same amount of purity as Shadowfax, the lord of horses. A rather strange fact, because the color of Gilgwath's coat was as black as the heart of Sauron the Deciever. However, in Kaylen's eyes he was the most beautiful, faithful steed an elf could be gifted with.  
  
As she rode, a glimmer of silver sparkled through the air high above her. She saw this and smiled, for the silver was the wingtip coloring of her animal companion, Jaden, a hunting falcon. The rest of his body was black as raven's feathers, and small as he was, he had no trouble avoiding others' gaze at most times. He was a gift from Elbereth, so that she would never be lonely. And yet the desired effect did not happen all of the time, he did remind her that she was not alone.  
  
This day she rode in the garb of a ranger, her dark golden tresses hidden under a darkened hood. The town of Bree did not question the purpose of a ranger's visit, which kept the secrecy of her journey intact. Truth be told, she did not fear anyone's telling of her arrival anyway, since most of the inhabitants had either the intelligence of an ant, or was drunk so much of the time that you could hardly tell a difference between the two types. Occasionally, there was someone who fit in both.  
  
It took seven hours for Gilgwath to carry Kaylen to the town of Bree, and after she had passed through the gate, another two minutes or so before she reached the town inn/tavern, called the Prancing Pony. She knew this place well; she had been here on many occasions, whether for a drink or for information. And the place knew her as well, as Blade, the ranger who occasionally beat people to the floor when they offended her. The corner that she sat in was kept vacant at all times now, for fear of exactly that happening. When she turned to the left, just inside the doorway, Barliman Butterbur was leaning on the wall of his booth, smiling pleasantly at her.  
  
"And good evenin' to you, Blade! What business have you got in my little tavern 'n board here?" His tone was as pleasant and merry as the smile on his face.  
  
"That is not entirely your concern," Kaylen replied, her true voice hidden under a slightly more whispery and grinding one, "but the parts that are I shall tell. Have you rooms available?"  
  
"Sure do. The usual place, I'll take it."  
  
"Indeed. The usual place." She referred to a room above and to the left of the stables. She did not like to leave her horse unguarded without a clear view of the entrance to the place where he was tethered. He was a fine beast, the sort any kind of thief would like to steal.  
  
"Good to know. And now," Barliman said, and he asked the same question he asked every person that set so much as a single toe into his tavern. "would you care for an ale?"  
  
"Yes, I would."  
  
"Pint or Half Pint?"  
  
"You're speaking to a Ranger, Barliman. What do you think?"  
  
"Full pint it is then."  
  
He served up a flagon of ale, and Kaylen took it, along with the rest of her, to her chair in the corner, where she kept watch for the hobbits. However, after actually looking at the people in the bar, she found herself to be one of two who were waiting for the Halflings. In the corner opposite her, another ranger slumped, his face, like hers, covered by a deep hood, and only revealed in the split seconds that the coals in his pipe weed glowed. However, Kaylen did not have to concentrated that hard to recognize this man. She had known him before he was man, and knew his mother before she was with child. This was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, a Ranger of the North, and still more. He was the heir to the throne of Gondor, though the Rangers have gone to great pains to see that his right to the throne is kept secret. He had grown up in Rivendell, and Kaylen had been there when he was a babe, to a boy, and now a tall, well-spoken man with dark hair and stubble, as well as fairly gray eyes. But here he was not Aragorn. Here he was Strider, the frightening Ranger, a haunting threat to these people, who let him alone for fear of his wrath.  
  
It was much the same here with Kaylen, though in her case her real name was never used. In Rivendell she was Gkaian Feaelen, a wise advisor to the Lady Arwen Undomiel, and while she was known for having an excellent sword hand, in Rivendell she was respected for wisdom and intelligence. In Bree, however, she was Blade, a Ranger whose face no one had ever seen even so much as a part of. Even during her fights, her hood was down, and to this day it had not done her any harm. Barliman had recognized her stance and her voice, but he knew nothing else about her. Most of the time she came, she sat in the corner, and she left.  
  
She nodded slightly to Strider, but did not want to alarm anyone more than she already had, so she walked immediately to her corner and sat, taking sips of her ale and waiting for those who had strayed out of the Shire with a terrible curse laid upon them. They carried the One Ring.  
  
And not long it was until the door opened and closed (though those who opened and closed it were short enough that she could not see them), and eventually, four scared, nervous, dripping wet half-lings came into view. At this point it was obvious who led this party. The darkest-haired one led, though he looked as though he was about to wet himself. Kaylen didn't blame him. Carrying something that important into a place you've never been before could very easily cause that much fear to rise up within you. Eventually the four hobbits all got their half-pints of ale (save for one, who had braved asking for a full-pint) and sat at their table, speaking in low voices to one another. From what Kaylen could hear (which was quite a lot, considering that Eldar hearing is much better than mortal man's), these were the halflings that she sent herself to find, and they had been awaiting Gandalf the Grey (A Maia, like herself, though how much older she could only begin to speculate. He was often welcomed into Elrond's household). Judging by the nervousness of a couple of them, he had been expected to be here several days ago.  
  
Kaylen's expression became one of confusion. Gandalf was occasionally late, but this late? There must be another reason, as he would not have prolonged this journey any more than he had to. Gandalf knew the evil that these little men were carrying, and Kaylen could hardly believe that he would have strayed from this place when so much depended on his arrival. Nonetheless, the wizard was no where to be found, and another trouble was added onto the tower that built up in her mind.  
  
She had little time to begin to knock the tower down, however, for a dangerous situation was placed before her very eyes. The hobbit who had managed to acquire a pint had accidentally inspired another (who had already finished off a half-pint) to seek one out. And unlike the first Halfling, this one could not hold his tongue so well when it was loosened by the effects of ale. Not only this, but as they conversed, the one that Kaylen assumed was Frodo had seemed to go into a trance, removing the ring from his pocket and twirling it around in his fingers. This alone was enough to concern the elvish ranger sitting in the corner, and with a quick glance, it was obvious that the mortal one in the opposite corner was now paying close attention to these small men's actions.  
  
As the hobbit twirled the most powerful weapon of Sauron in his hands, the Ring began to whisper to the ears of its prey. In a voice that was overpowering even as a whisper, the Ring spoke to Frodo Baggins' ears alone, though what it was doing was guessed by both observers.  
  
"_Baggins...Baggins...**Baggins.**_" It whispered, placing its target under a spell with its words.  
  
Somehow, the very same name had been spoken of outside the Halfling's mind, though by whom no one quite knew, and it did not especially matter. However, what mattered was that it was heard by the ears of the most intoxicated of the three others, a brunette, green-eyed hobbit whose name, it would be discovered, was Peregrin Took. Not only that, but a reply came from its mention.  
  
"Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins!" With an arm, he gestured to the Halfling that held the Ring. "Frodo Baggins! He's my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side..."  
  
But before he could finish his sentence, the one labeled Frodo had ran to his side, and tried to pull him away. His resistance, which came quickly and rudely, caused Frodo to be pushed back, where he slipped on another man's boot, and fell to the floor, flinging into the air the One Ring. He reached up to grab it out of the air, but the Ring had plans of its own, and instead changed its path ever-so-slightly to land itself onto Frodo's small index finger. Frodo disappeared from all but Kaylen's sight immediately. He was now invisible to most eyes in the room, but what mattered most was that now the Nazgul, the devout servants of the Dark Lord, knew where the Ring was.  
  
The first shock of seeing the Ring fall onto Frodo's finger (not to mention the knowledge that the Nazgul would not take long to arrive) took some time to wear off of Kaylen, and by the time she had risen up to walk swiftly to the hobbit who only seconds ago had removed the Ring from his finger, her associate, Strider, had beaten her to it. He had been the first to notice when the ring had been taken off, and had located the table under which Frodo was hiding. From what Kaylen saw, he had roughly picked the small man up by his collar, and had physically forced him quickly up the stairs.  
  
Kaylen sighed slightly at her defeat, feeling somewhat deflated that she had been beaten by a mortal man, and a dark half-smile spread across her lips as she silently walked up the stairs and to the door that separated her from the Halfling and Strider. She would not lose this time, she thought, and agilely strode to the back of the other Ranger, quickly removing her plain longsword from it's sheath, and sliding it up until it only just touched Strider's throat. This time she had been faster than him, and he raised his hands in defeat.  
  
Her voice was low and mocking as she spoke to his ear.  
  
"_Dunedan_, you simply MUST learn to act faster."  
  
**--Ok, folks, I know well that this chapter has been a bit dry. In fact, every time I write this chapter it sounds a little...boring. Then again, there isn't much in the way of action here. I hope you like it anyway, and if you have suggestions, don't hesitate to state them in a review or something of the sort. Now, on to the next chapter. For those few of you waiting for it to come, it might take as much as a week, but most likely no more than that.--**


	3. Chapter Two

**---Once again, I do not own any of these characters save for Kaylen, who is mine and mine alone.---**

Chapter Two  
  
The man flinched at the words, his hands twitching a little. By the look of it, agility was not one of the traits that he would normally need instructing in. The sound that escaped from his mouth was almost a growl, and it made Kaylen's dark smile widen even more. She knew that he had trained long and hard to become as he was, but he was a friend of hers, and she couldn't resist the occasional need to mock him. She had once been a tutor of his, but the time for teaching was long over, for he was a full-grown man now, and had learned most of what Kaylen could teach her in a quarter of the time Kaylen had expected.  
  
"Well, then, _Dunedan_, do you yield?"  
  
A grumbling tone answered quickly.  
  
"Never."  
  
"Oh? What was that you said?" She said, pressing the sword slightly harder against his throat, so close to drawing blood that had she flinched, her good friend would be dead. However, her hand was steady, and held the sword firmly in place.  
  
"I yield, if it spares my life for the time being. I was going to converse shortly with my guest, who is hiding in the corner just there, and having my throat slit would not help the situation any."  
  
"Very well then, my friend. You may have your talk with him. Afterwards though, may be a different matter." With this she released him, nodding to the hobbit.  
  
"Forgive me for interrupting, Mr. Underhill. Please allow my friend to finish what he has to say."  
  
Aragorn began to speak to the hobbit of fear, and that Frodo did not have enough of it in his heart for one who carried such a ring. However, he was interrupted a second time by the door swinging open loudly, and Frodo's three companions rushed through the door, wielding, among other things, a short bar stool and a candle holder.  
  
The one that seemed most attached to frodo yelled out, his voice determined and far too angry for anyone's comfort.  
  
"Get out, or I'll have you, Longshanks!"  
  
Strider, who had, in the time that it took for the hobbits to get through the door, unsheathed his sword and prepared to fight, resheathed it slowly.  
  
"You have a stout heart, but that will not save you." With this, he turned to Mr. Baggins. "You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."  
  
That night, all four hobbits slept in Aragorn's rented room, and the two rangers took turns on watch. Later in the night, a metallic screech was heard, the cry of the Nazgul. They invaded Bree and plundered the hobbits' quarters in a vain attempt to slaughter them in their sleep, but this time they had been outsmarted. The hobbits had placed pillows under their bedsheets, and had sought safety in the company of two rangers. And safe they would be, Blade told herself, as she rose and looked out the window.  
  
Aragorn turned his head away from the glass a little, and spoke in a quiet voice directly to his comrade.   
  
"Have you any news of Mithrandir?"  
  
"None."  
  
Aragorn scowled a little, his face clouded with concern.  
  
"Feaelen, you know that he would not have delayed. And since he is not here, I know not what to do. I am in need of council."  
  
"We must bear them away. This place is too dangerous, too easily entered. If Mithrandir is not here by dawn, we must leave without him."  
  
"Agreed. We take them to Imaldris?"  
  
"I know no better place for this burden to be taken to."  
  
"Elrond shall not be pleased."  
  
"Then he shall not be pleased. Under other circumstances I would have advised otherwise, but..." She leaned in closer, talking quieter, "you know the danger these halflings carry. Therefore to Imaldris we must go, with all speed."  
  
Aragorn sighed.   
  
"We set out at dawn."  
  
There was a moment of silence, which was broken by a Nazgul's screech, and the whimpering sound of Frodo being awakened into a nightmare. He shuddered, and immediately stood, walking speedily towards the window. As he looked out, his eyes filled with the fear that he should have had in his heart a while before.  
  
"What are they?"  
  
Aragorn was the one to answer, as Blade looked out at her enemies.  
  
"There were once men, great kings of men. Then Sauron the Deciever gave to them nine rings. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness, and now they are slaves to his will." His words were distant, as if he wasn't seeing the Black Riders, but rather was looking into the past, seeing what they once were. When he began to speak again, his voice had changed, focused on the emotions that he had for these creatures. The anger, the hate, and the pity.  
  
"They are the Nazgul, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They shall never stop hunting you."  
  
The night went on, and day began, and as the sun began to emerge from under the horizon, Kaylen awoke. She was the first to rise, being Eldar, and passed down the stairs, into the tavern. The place was empty, abnormally so, and the only man she found inhabiting it was Barliman, who seemed to twitch with fear now and then. It was sad to see so cheerful a man suddenly become the opposite of what he was because of the minions of Sauron. It gave her more hatred for the Dark Lord than ever before. She walked outside into the cool morning, smelling the scent of fresh dew. Under the dew, though, she could almost smell the fear, and she could smell the death. She had become accustomed to that smell in particular.   
  
Kaylen turned, and strode back into the tavern, not wanting to have to see suffering so early in the morning. Instead, she foud food, and prepared it for those who slept yet. She brought trays back up to the room where they had stayed, and placed them on a small table. By the time everyone had woken up and noticed the table, she had already eaten, and was sitting by the window, looking out.  
  
The others ate well, and then silently packed their things. After all was packed, Kaylen returned to the stables, finding her horse untouched. She stroked his dark mane lightly a few times, and then untethered him. When she had led him out of the stables, Aragorn was waiting by the door, and the last of the hobbits had scurried down the stairs. Together, they set out east, and into the wilderness just beyond the town of Bree. Once here, the two rangers seemed to settle a bit, as the wilderness was what they knew best. They continued east, toward the realm of Rivendell, but on foot (the only way they could currently travel, as there were far too many to ride on horseback) it would take several days.  
  
That night they slept just outside of the Midgewater marshes, in a small clearing. Aragorn managed to shoot down a deer, and so that night they ate venison. When all were full of stomach, the hobbits fell each into their own slumbers. Once again, Aragorn and Kaylen took turns on watch, so that some sleep could be had. After her shift was over, Kaylen slept, only to be awoken once to hear Aragorn singing the tale of Luthien Tinuviel. Falling asleep once again, she did not awaken until sunrise.  
  
The next day they traveled long between the two meals that they were allowed. In truth, Kaylen could not remember the exact goings on during most of that day, since little had happened, and so the entire day was blurred. However, the sight that stood clearly in her mind was that of the ruined tower of Amon Sul (also called Weathertop), their destination for tonight. They would sleep here tonight, for although the winds that blew over it were strong, the tower's foundation was even stronger. They climbed a flight of stairs, taking them into a hollowed out part of the tower's side, where one could keep an eye on the events happening below them. The hobbits sat down to rest, and were shortly given each a short sword by Aragorn, if they should need to protect themselves. The two rangers then went separate ways, looking for their own food and scouting for enemies.  
  
Kaylen spent a good long time hunting before coming upon what seemed to be the only animal life around: Rabbits. She managed to catch one, and was about to kill it and return to the tower when she heard the pounding of horse hooves, and a screech that pierced as much the soul as the ears. The Nazgul approached.  
  
Immediately she ran for the tower, the feeling of dread and the knowledge that the Ringwraiths were on horseback and could move far faster than she could only adding to her haste. When she found breath, she screamed out for Aragorn to return. She could already see that she would not beat them to the tower, and only prayed now that she would not arrive too late.

---**Ok, next chapter should be faster-paced. However, please review if you have any comments or problems with this chapter--**


	4. Chapter Three

**--I don't any of these characters except Kaylen and her companions (horse and falcon). And yes, for you traditionalists, I do know that Asfaloth actually should be Glorfindel's horse. However, I'm basing this mostly on the movie so that it isn't obscenely long, so cut me some slack...please?**

**Also, to "falling down"'s review, I have some comments.**

**Thank you for pointing out that Imrahil was a name already from the books. I had completely forgotten. The horse's name is now Gilgwath. My apologies for perhaps offending you before. Also, thank you for reminding me to put a warning in this story. Kaylen is, in fact, a Mary Sue, but you shall see in future chapters (Chapter Four, for example) that she is far from overly perfect. And no, this isn't a Legomance (thankfully). Thanks for reviewing. Some of your suggestions were very helpful.**

**---**  
  
**Chapter Three**  
  
"_Elessar! Nazgul sangan ie' Amon Sul!_"  
  
She cried out the alarm as she ran as fast as she had on the day that she was born away from her father. If the Ringwraiths beat her to the tower, they would not win by much. She found the back entrance and sprang up the steps, unsheathing her sword and a dagger as she reached the top. She stopped at the top quickly, only to see five of the nine Black Riders standing in a battle formation. One of them stepped closer to a space in front of a large boulder. Although the elvish ranger could not see precisely what was in front of them (she always just saw a dark shape when the Ring was worn), she could guess easily. Frodo, fool that he was, must have put the Ring on once again, in hopes that he would be able to escape.   
  
At that very moment, Aragorn was leaping up the steps, and when he reached where Kaylen stood, the two let out a battle cry, as if one voice, and charged. Aragorn had a torch with him, and after just seconds, had lit one of the Nazgul on fire, sending them screaming from the tower. Kaylen immediately picked up her own torch, which the hobbits had picked up and taken with them. It had gone out, but this was soon remedied when Aragorn made a swipe at another Nazgul. She raised her torch just enough for the flames to be passed onto it, and then began fighting again. After a few minutes, they had lit the last four on fire, and watched them rush away screeching. After a small moment of triumph, they rushed to the now very visible and injured Frodo Baggins, who was writhing in pain from what appeared to be a shoulder wound from a dagger. Aragorn picked up the bloodstained dagger that lay next to the hobbit, and realized what it was. He dropped it, as if disgusted with it.  
  
"He's been stabbed by a Morgul Blade. This wound is beyond my skill to heal. He needs elvish medicine."   
  
With this, Aragorn looked to Kaylen.  
  
"Can you save this halfling?"  
  
She shook her head slightly.  
  
"With the supplies I have, I may be able to keep him alive for two, perhaps three days. However, I cannot heal him completely until we reach Rivendell."  
  
As Aragorn lifted Frodo and the entire group began to run down the stairs and across the landscape, Sam spoke up.  
  
"But we're six days from Rivendell. He'll never make it!"  
  
There was not response to this. Only attempts at keeping Frodo from falling faster.   
  
Far later that night, they stopped under the frozen image of the trolls that Bilbo Baggins encountered, and lay Frodo down. Kaylen placed her hands over Frodo's wound and began to chant as Aragorn took Sam aside.  
  
"Do you know the athelas plant?"  
  
Sam looked confused. "Athelas?"  
  
"Kingsfoil."  
  
"Ah, Kingsfoil. It's a weed!"  
  
Aragorn turned his head back to Frodo.  
  
"It may help to slow the poison. Hurry!"  
  
Kaylen continued to chant an incantation, attempting to bring Frodo up from the Shadow that his mind and soul was sinking slowly into.  
  
"_Ten' ooamin! Entul a' i'me'a! Rom tuulo' i'daer!_"  
  
After a short while, Sam returned empty-handed, and later Aragorn returned, those his hands were far from empty. He had indeed found the athelas plant, and with it he had found Kaylen's sister, she whom Gkaian Feaelen advised. Arwen Undomiel. As Kaylen chanted, Aragorn chewed the athelas leaves, and placed the paste-like material from his mouth onto Frodo's wounds. Arwen spoke lightly, her voice as a calm spring breeze floating over the earth below.  
  
"He is fading. We must get him to the realm of my father."  
  
With this, Arwen's horse, Asfaloth, came into view, his stunning white coat almost shimmering through the trees. Gilgwath was to the left of him, and farther behind. When Kaylen had finished her chant, and taken herself away from Frodo, Aragorn lifted the hobbit onto the front of Asfaloth's saddle, and Arwen continued to speak.  
  
"There are five wraiths behind you. Where the other four are I do not know."  
  
At this time, Aragorn and Arwen began an argument in elvish over who would ride with Frodo on Asfaloth and bear him away to Rivendell. Kaylen paid them little attention, as she strode behind Asfaloth to Gilgwath, and untethered him. The two finally stopped arguing shortly after Kaylen had mounted the great black beast, and as Arwen mounted Asfaloth, both she and Aragorn looked oddly at the elf.  
  
"For what reason do you mount, _Feaelen_?"  
  
Kaylen's reply came swiftly, as if she wasn't even thinking about it.  
  
"I am riding with you."  
  
"No, it is far too dangerous."  
  
"Too dangerous, you say?" Kaylen seemed to roll the thought around in her head. "Would you still think it dangerous for me to ride with you when you are being pursued by the Nine and have no hands free to defend with? You shall carry the halfling to Imaldris, and I shall come to make sure that you arrive there unharmed."  
  
There was silence then, and after that, the nodding of two heads. It seemed that she did not have to argue this any more, and she was glad of it. Both she and Arwen were now mounted on their steeds, and Kaylen turned to see Aragorn placing his hand over Arwen's.  
  
"Ride hard. Don't look back." Were his last words to the two, before elvish commands were whispered to both steeds' ears, and they shot off, leaving only dust clouds in their remembrance.  
  
And so they rode, with Arwen in the front, and Kaylen behind, sword drawn. If the Nazgul should approach, the Halfling and the Evenstar would both be protected by centuries of weapons training and experience in battle. They would not be harmed.   
  
The sun had risen well into the sky when the first screech was heard, followed by the drumming sound of horses' hooves hitting the ground. As their rhythm became louder, Arwen urged Asfaloth on, and Kaylen prepared herself for battle. They all appeared behind the two riders, all nine, and with a series of kicks and then groans of pain from their beasts, the Black Riders began to gain on them. Kaylen realized that Asfaloth could not outrun these demons when so burdened, and she urged Gilgwath up until she was alongside Arwen.  
  
"My lady, you know that Asfaloth cannot fly so fast when burdened with extra weight. Let me bear the Halfling away on Gilgwath, and then, with the full speed of your blessed beast, you may meet me at the opposite side of our beloved Bruinen."  
  
Once again, there was a nod, and the transfer was quickly made. When the sickened hobbit, who was now letting out high pitched groans and was as unhealthy-looking as the Nazgul's tortured steeds, was securely seated in front of her, Kaylen yelled the command to her horse.  
  
"Fly, Gilgwath! Bury these demons in your dust!"  
  
With that, the steed's hooves beat the ground faster and faster, until to untrained eyes the world around would have seemed but a blur of color. Asfaloth, now free of extra weight, too increased in speed, though Gilgwath was far ahead of them. Three turns were made, then a jump over a log, and soon, the sound of flowing water could be heard. The Ford was not far now, and with every beat of the giant black steed's hooves, the hobbit was carried farther and farther away from the hand of evil. At long last, they came upon the Ford of Bruinen, and quickly crossed it. Kaylen turned her steed to face the side that Arwen and the Nazgul would approach from, and waited. Ten seconds turned into fifteen, and after twenty seconds she became worried. Had Gilgwath truly fled that fast, or had something happened to her sister? Twenty turned into thirty, and finally, she spotted her sister, who was riding no more than twenty feet in front of a black mass, which became the Nine Ringwraiths. However, Arwen reached her kinswoman's side of the river, and the Nazgul, for a moment paused.  
  
There was the sound of nine swords being drawn, and then a whispering voice came from the depths of one of the dark hoods.  
  
"Give us the halfling, she-elves."  
  
Arwen's response to this was sudden, as she drew Hadafang, her own blade. Her voice was cold as ice, and as sharp as the blade she held.  
  
"If you want him, come and claim him!"  
  
As the Nazgul began to meet her challenge, starting to cross into the Ford's waters, white waves began to rise from the river. This would not have shocked the two elves, but the waves took the form of great white steeds, crashing down upon the servants of Sauron, unhorsing them and sending them down the river, as if the waters were a cure, sweeping away a dreaded plague. It was good to know that Elrond still kept these waters guarded (though by what, none but him could truly say).   
  
However, the time for admiration of Elrond was not now, which was made clear as the hobbit that sat before Kaylen made a high-pitched sound of suffering, and began to slump forward in the saddle. Arwen immediately dismounted, and brought the hobbit softly to the ground. Kaylen dismounted after, knelt down, and once again raised the poor suffering halfling as far out of Shadow as she could. The two then remounted, with the hobbit once again in the front of Gilgwath's saddle, and rode off, as fast as the two steeds' hooves could carry them to the elven Realm of Rivendell.  
  
They were running out of time.  
  
**-----  
  
Well, this chapter picks up a bit, doesn't it? And I guaruntee you, there shall be actual long, drawn out battle scenes soon. If you could please review, and give me some suggestions, I would be most appreciative. **


	5. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story are mine except for Kaylen. She indeed is mine and mine alone.  
  
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Chapter Four  
  
Horse hooves beat the ground as if they were drums, ever quickenning. Sweat formed in dew-like droplets on the two rider's foreheads as they sped across the landscape, through forest and meadow, with the hobbit Frodo on the saddle of the dark horse. They were running out of time, and if they did not reach the elven realm of Imladris soon, this small man would do far worse than die. He would become a wraith, like the Nazgul, and great shame would come to those that failed to save him.  
  
Though it was not long until they saw the gates of Rivendell, it seemed to take all too much time. When they the openning, both quickly dismounted, and Kaylen took the hobbit swiftly and gently into her arms, running as fast as her legs deemed possible to the House of Elrond. She prayed that Elrond's gift of foresight, which was said to be so great a gift, showed him the approaching halfling as they came upon the house's door. Thankfully, her prayers were not in vain, and Elrond came rushing out from the door, gesturing for her and Arwen to come inside. They placed the sickened hobbit on a bed, and as Feaelen prepared to join Elrond in healing the hobbits spirit, Arwen found a needle and thick thread that was meant for closing wounds and placed them on the bedside table. When all was ready, both Feaelen and Elrond lowered their heads, and began to lift Frodo's soul out of the Shadows that it sank so far into.  
  
It took an entire day of their joined attempts to finally prevent him completely from becoming a wraith, and it had not been simple. By the time the deed was done, Kaylen had been weakened so that she could not stand and walk by herself, and so help was needed. Elrond had also been weakened, though it did not seem as though it had strained him as much in body. He stayed behind, and began work on Frodo's physical wounds. By the time that Kaylen could once again stand and walk by herself, the tip of the Morgul Blade, which had broken off of the dagger and began to dig towards his heart, had been removed, and so she took part in sewing and dressing the wound. The last she saw of Frodo Baggins that day, he had been washed and clothing had been found for him, and he lay in a bed in Elrond's house. He would now rest, most likely for many days.  
  
Some days later, Aragorn and the remaining hobbits arrived in Rivendell, weared by the burdens of exhaustion and anxiety. Upon being informed of Frodo's situation, however, their attitudes lightened considerably. The hobbit whose name was Samwise Gamgee immediately demanded to be take to Frodo's room, and Kaylen, after nodding to the others, led him to Frodo's bedside. She admired Samwise in his sheer devotion to Frodo, how he would stay by the halfling's side without rest, food, or drink. She prayed that it would stay this way, for such devout friendship was not often to be found in this world. She then nodded, and took her leave.  
  
The next night, after the sun had fallen from the horizon and Elbereth's stars were allowed to burn so brightly in the sky, Kaylen left her quarters. Her lady was calling, and the servant of Varda could not refuse her summons. She dressed this night in light robes of dark green, fastening a wide leather belt about her middle and hanging her simple longsword in it's sheath on the belt. She stepped onto a balcony on her way down the stairs, only to see a dark figure, a man of the South, judging by his garments, being led away towards the guests' quarters area of the realm. Curiosity stayed her for a moment, at who this new visitor could be, but it quickly left her mind as she found Gilgwath in the stables, and mounted him bareback. The Glade of Elbereth was hidden half a league North of Rivendell, and was a place unknown to her fellow elves. She frequently visited it, whether to speak to her Lady or to simply sit in the center of the glade, relaxing to the sound of the glade's spring gurgling it's water over stones. As she rode away from the realm of Imladris, heading North, the thoughts of the visitor left her mind.  
  
Yet the same could not be said of the visitor. Since he had arrived here in Rivendell, the man had thought the realm to be deadened, empty, save for the elfman who greeted him at the entrance. When he saw the strange Elda (he assumed she was of elvenkind) leave, he was intrigued by her. And so, instead of retiring to his quarters and having to deal with silence for the remainder of the night, he returned to the stables for his horse and rode out, following her as quietly as one can on horseback, for this way perhaps there would not be silence tonight. He kept the hood of his cloak up, following her through wood and field, until she stopped.  
  
The woman stopped at a clearing of trees, and when he saw her dismount, he stopped his horse and did likewise, though a good ways away from her, and hopefully, out of earshot. He stepped lightly, trying not to make his presence known until a time which he saw fit.  
  
Kaylen was no fool. She may not have heard it at first, but eventually her keen ears picked up the sound of a second set of hoofbeats, and after she dismounted, a second pair of footsteps. However, at first the summons of Elbereth kept her in a daze, and it was not until she had only a few feet left to walk before reaching the Glade that her mind spoke to her of this stalker. Immediately,she drew her sword, and silently climbed one of the trees that lined the outside of the glade. Her prey neared it's predator (or perhaps it was the other way around, depending on whose point of view one was seeing from) soon after, and as he stood below the tree she hid in, she lept down, attempting to slide her blade around his neck, and press it against his throat in a threatening manner. However, this man's senses were keen enough to hear the sound of her leap, and her blade stroke was met by another blade, backed by an equal, if not greater, amount of strength. She leaned into the parry, forcing him to step backwards, into the moonlight. It was the same man that she had seen being led to guest's quarters in Rivendell. So he was a guest to her people. She could not now, in good conscience, slay him. However, she was in such a mood that she would not deny herself a sparring match. She stepped forward, and was almost relieved to see him step back in defense. She smiled darkly, her deep green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Her smile was returned with an equally dark grin, and his dark eyes had the same intent in them.  
  
And so the match began.  
  
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This is a much better chapter, I feel. And look! More action is surely to come. Review if you like, but please do not flame. I do not take kindly to insults. 


	6. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in here besides Kaylen.  
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Chapter Five  
  
Each opponent had fell into his or her normal combat position, Kaylen being low to the ground, with both hands holding her blade, and the man of the South kept his legs planted shoulderwidth apart, with his left being half a foot behind his right, and his blade, held in both hands, extended comfortably out. For the first few moments, they simply looked at each other in silence, each observing their opponent's movement. The man had less agility in his movements than this elf, but greater strength was on his side. Kaylen's blade was larger, though, meaning that his would move the fastest. However, the man gripped his blade only loosely with his left hand, as if he were used to holding a shield. This was most likely, but it meant that his blade would be easier to knock out of his hands than hers would. Both waited for the other to strike first, but Kaylen had a very specific reason for waiting. She was timing him, silently, on how long he could last before striking out.It was some time before he did, impressing his opponent greatly.  
  
The first strike was an upward stroke, swung from the elbow (as opposed to the shoulder), out towards Kaylen's right arm. This was blocked by a downward beat parry, knocking the man of the South back a foot or so with the force behind it. Feaelen struck out then, in relatiation, a light jab towards the meat of her opponent's shoulder. The man saw this coming just in time, parrying her blade to his left side. She reacted quickly, raising her arm for a downward slice at his chest, which was blocked by the man's blade. The way he blocked made the blades together seem a cross, but she took advantage of the opportunity and swung her sword so that it dipped under his and made a slash across his chest. The dark-eyed man dodged this by quickly flinching backwards, and while doing so, attempted a slanted slash from above. Kaylen defended herself by beating his blade to the side with her own, and pushing it downwards, causing him to back away slightly once again.  
  
The actions in the match then quickened, making the duel itself seem as though it were a starlit dance, each person in it moving with poise, and above all, much experience. The moonlight glinted off of the two blades as they were moved through the air, and the dancers were so well matched in skill that one would have thought them close partners. Throughout the entire match, however, only two things stayed constant. The glittering of the moonlight, and the dark grins that stayed fixed on the two fighters' faces.  
  
It ended some half an hour later, when (by pure luck and good timing) Kaylen found the perfect openning being presented to her. Her opponent's sword had been out to his side, and tilted downwards as a result of a blow of his being parried strongly downward by her blade. She beat it again, then took a step forward while turning so that her back was to him. She used the handle of her sword as a hammer, and knocking the hilt of his forward firmly, knocking the sword completely out of his hand. He, as an instinct, bent to retrieve it, but was reminded a moment later by a strong backwards shove that Kaylen's body lay now between him and his blade. This shove knocked him over on his back, and quickly a foot planted itself in the center of his chest, the feeling of a blade tip sliding up to rest ever-so-lightly against his throat. It was then that the dark grin left his face, replaced with one of bewildered defeat.  
  
Before he had the chance to voice an objection to her keeping him pinned against the ground with her foot, she spoke to him, her voice sharp, the tone of an instructor, as well as that of a student and warrior, present in it.  
  
"You have an impressive amount of skill will a blade. Where did you learn it?"  
  
His voice escaped into her ears, a deep and very masculine, cultured tone. Judging by that alone, she guessed that he was no normal member of the guard, but more like a captain.  
  
"All skill that I have in swordplay was taught to me in Minas Tirith, though I see here that it may need improving."  
  
"Nothing about your swordhand needs improvement. Only your timing." With this, she removed her foot from his chest, and held out a hand to help him up. He grasped it tightly, but he did not stand up. Instead, the dark grin returned to his face, and with all his might, he pulled on her arm. His plan had succeeded, and she came tumbling down on the ground with him. He rolled then, ending up on top of her, straddling her abdomen and reaching over to retrieve his sword. He grinned down at her, holding the sword close to her throat.  
  
"I was also taught that one should never be off guard in the company of a foreign and unknown people." He said, chuckling lightly afterwards.  
  
"Now," he continued, "I shall remove the weight of myself from your body. But before that, lady, I would have your name."  
  
Kaylen scowled slightly. She was not used to being the one with the disadvantage, nor was she used to being the one on the ground. She gave him a steely look.  
  
"Gkaian, though many in the realm I dwell in would call me Feaelen."  
  
"Gkaian." He repeated, disregarding the name that others gave her. It was strange, and seemed unfitting for such a person, but then, not all names fit those that they were given to. He leaned backwards, shifting his weight to his feet, and getting up, taking his sword with him. His opponent stood shortly afterward, picking her own blade up from where it had fallen (she had dropped it when she had been pulled to the ground) and sheathing it.  
  
"Yours?" She asked. His back was before turned to her, but he turned back to look at her, not quite understanding her statement.  
  
"My what, lady?"  
  
"Your name. Will you let me know it, or are you so secretive that you do not dare tell it?" She seemed to jest with this, but the irony of the statement hit her deeply.  
  
He smiled politely. "Certainly not, as I keep no secrets." In this he lied, but it was a lie oft told, so no harm was done.  
  
"I am Boromir, son of Denethor."  
  
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One of my better chapters, I should think. Review if you'd like. 


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